Hit-Girl Who?
by carathay
Summary: Our choices define who we are. But what happens when we don't remember those choices... Or are given an opportunity to make new ones. Following a mysterious accident, Mindy no longer even knows she's Mindy, let alone the daring and dangerous Hit-Girl. And for some reason she's choosing to be as different as she could possibly be.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I haven't written for a long time because my characters always tell me what the story is. And Mindy hasn't spoken to me for a very long time. I've decided to use that to my advantage to explore something new. This is different and I'm trying to take my time on telling the story. So patience please. Enjoy.

Journal – Day 1.

"Why did I feel the need to go out and buy a journal?" I asked myself as I walked out of the stationary shop. "Why did it feel so important?" The more I thought about it, the more confused I got. After the accident, I didn't even have anything to write in it. "So fuc.. So fudging stupid." Grimacing at how awkward that was to say, I sighed. I was trying to stop swearing. Apparently I'd been extremely comfortable with it before… before SOMETHING happened and I was left like this. But cursing like a sailor didn't really fit in with my life now. Not a whole lot did.

The honks and shouts of New York's streets calmed me down while I walked back to where I was staying. They always did and I'd found that I couldn't sleep with the windows closed in my apartment. It was too quiet. Or maybe I was that without distractions, I got stuck inside my head and would lay there for hours trying to… I suppose the word should be remember but remember didn't fit what I was trying to do. When you're trying to remember something like a phone number or someone's face, you know that the information is somewhere hiding inside your brain waiting for the right moment to come out. This… The easiest way to explain it is that I didn't know what I didn't know. Before the accident, did I go to school? Did I have parents who loved me? Friends? A pet? I couldn't try to remember any of these things because I didn't even know if they'd happened. I'd lost so much that I didn't even know where to start.

As you've probably figured out, I'm writing in the journal now. I think I'm going to like it. It's peaceful. And it allows me to set to rest my feelings about everything that I don't know. And my feelings can best be described as… Let's say fudged. But so fudged that they'd make the best brownie mix you've ever tasted.

So… I'm back. And the brownies are in the oven. All I could think about after writing that last line was sweets. Chocolate is good but I do know that it isn't what I really want. Sugary maybe, with a bit of spice… Maybe I should try gingerbread…

Hey! I know something! I know that chocolate brownies aren't my favorite dessert! I suppose you could argue that knowing a negative isn't all that useful. I mean, there are a million other sweets out there. But knowing that these weren't my favorite meant that I had a favorite! I actually have something to try to remember!

As you can see, it doesn't take a whole lot to make me happy right now…..

Brownies are done!

Journal Day 2

Work was a bitch today. I've just decided that saying 'bitch' in that manner is acceptable. Calling someone one certainly isn't but as a description for my day, it works. It seems like I once read that profanity is the refuge of the uneducated and uncouth. But that is the accurate way to describe my day and I need to be honest as well. I suppose I should explain. Finding a job had been kind of difficult. When you don't know anything about what happened earlier in your life, there aren't a lot of jobs that you can get. You can't for example, be a teacher or an accountant. I don't know and can't prove that I have any kind of degree or training. So, there isn't a lot left to apply for. I tried secretarial work for a few days after a quick experiment had proven that I knew how to type. But sitting at a desk all day just felt wrong. Waitressing is what I'm trying now and it's not as bad as I'd thought it would be. I've already got regulars that order the same things everyday and tips for just doing my job is extremely nice. I love it when it gets really busy; it's almost like a battle. Everyone has their assigned tasks and you trust each other as you hurry around the restaurant. You're part of this well oiled machine that takes care of people. And I like that. But tonight was absolutely dead. There's a street fair going on two blocks down and it stole all of our customers. That meant no work and the silence was starting to wig me out. But as the hours stretched by, the owner, a mousy looking guy named Matt who makes the best meatloaf that I've ever tasted, decided it was time to give the whole restaurant a good scrub. So we all spent the evening scrubbing everything we could find. Waitress wages, no tips, and cleaning shelves on my hands and knees wasn't a great way to spend a night. It started out ok washing tables but then I got assigned to work in the prep area. I'm not sure if I was given the bottom shelves because I'm the shortest person there or because Matt and the guys wanted an opportunity to stare at my ass. I suppose my dignity should have made me say no. But I was tired and as long as it remained staring, I decided that I really didn't care. So now I'm home and my hands are all pruny, my knees hurt, and I forgot to put plastic wrap on the remaining brownies from yesterday so they're all crunchy.

Life's a bitch and then you die, as the saying goes. Especially now that I've decided that word is okay. Except that despite everything that had happened, I hadn't died.

One strange thing happened tonight though. Once I was settled with my laptop and the dried out brownies on the couch, Instead of typing in my Netflix account into the computer, I logged in someone else's account. It must have been from before because my brain didn't know it but my fingers did. Whoever it belongs to must like really violent movies because Netflix's suggestions were incredibly disturbing. Bruce Lee movies might be alright but some of those others… I suppose this is a clue to my past… If I could somehow find out who the person with the account is, they might know something about who I was before this all happened. But I'm not sure that I want to know someone whose tastes are that bizarre. It might be better just to let my past go. Feeling a bit spunky however, I stayed logged into their account and found that British baking show to watch. We'll see what that does to their Netflix's suggestions.


	2. Chapter 2

Interlude

The microwave dinged mournfully. Dave pulled himself off the couch and went to pull out the frozen dinner he'd put in there for tonight. He set it on the counter, stared at it for a moment, then picked it up and dropped it directly into the trash. It just wasn't worth eating. Opening the pantry, he pulled out a bag of chips and then grabbed a soda from the fridge. That would have to suffice for dinner tonight.

Dave wandered through the house until he got back to the couch. He looked around the living room and sighed. There was his dad's chair, which Dave still didn't feel comfortable sitting in a year after his Dad's death. When the lawyers had gone over the will, they had told Dave that his dad had left him everything. All their stuff was now his. But that chair… Dave still didn't consider it his own. He couldn't decide if he needed to get over that feeling or just get rid of the chair. Because staring at it each night was driving him crazy.

Crawling back onto the couch, Dave hunted until he found the remote hiding under a beaten up cushion and then brought up Netflix. He had a mission to finish. Honestly, it was kind of stupid but stupid was all he had left in his life at this point. He was systematically watching every single movie that he knew Mindy had loved. Which was pretty much every single gory, horror, or action movie that Netflix had. And then some. Given how many movies she'd watched, he wasn't sure when she'd found the time to do all of the training to hone herself into a deadly killer. Maybe the lack of school for most of her life had helped. What helped Dave was using these movies to somehow reconnect with her. He'd been her friend, then her Robin. And near the end, maybe even her partner. That had felt pretty wonderful during the last fight against the MotherFucker. It was as if he'd completed some sort of rite of passage.

And then she'd sat on a sparkly purple motorcycle and made him her first kiss. It had turned his world upside down, awakening feelings that he'd previously discarded because she was just a little girl. She wasn't that child any longer. She was luscious and perfect and he'd just wanted to slide his hands into that thick blond hair and find out if the second kiss would manage to be better than the first. But she'd just threatened him, pulled on her helmet, and ridden off into the distance. Her parting gift… A spectacular view of her ass as she rode away. She'd probably have killed him if she'd caught him staring. But it would have been worth it.

These were not the respectful thoughts that he should be having about her. And it didn't in any way diminish how amazing he thought she was. Smart, funny, deadly, loyal; an all-around perfect friend and partner. But part of him was still trying to reconcile that change from child to adult that she'd seemingly made in a single moment. And even the guilty part of him had to admit that fact was fact, and her butt had looked great as she perched on the seat and rode away.

He was sometimes disturbed by how often he thought about that view… but more often guiltily found himself reaching for the tissue box. He wondered what she'd do if she ever found out about his obsession. Would she be disgusted? Angry? Intrigued? Maybe even turned on? Or would she not even care? Somehow he'd rather that she be mad than not care. He wanted to matter to her at least on some level. But apparently he didn't, because she'd ridden out of his life almost two years ago and he hadn't heard a single damn thing from her since. Not even a damn postcard.

Netflix finished logging in and he checked to see what movie it suggested that he watch next. Technically, he was done. He'd watched everything he'd known she'd seen and was just waiting until next month for more movies to come on. In the absence of known films, he was watching every other movie that fit her criteria. He figured that she was out there somewhere watching more movies and this was his only way to keep up with her. Recommendations included the latest Steven King, some old vampire movie called 'Near Dark', and… The British Baking Show.

He stared at it for a few minutes and then laughed. Apparently Netflix had gone crazy. But maybe the algorithm had a good reason for choosing it and it would appeal to Mindy. So, unable to think of a good reason to fight the madness, he went ahead and clicked play.


	3. Chapter 3

Day 3

When I got to the restaurant for my shift today, the owner, Matt, actually had the decency to look guilty. Maybe he was actually regretting forcing me to work on my hands and knees last night. And he'd been a real bear lately so maybe he was feeling bad about that too. He even assigned me to work the front section of the restaurant which is typically the best place for tips. Or maybe it was just the 'put a pretty girl in the front to bring in the guys'. Regardless, it was paying off pretty nicely for me so I wasn't complaining.

As it got later into the evening, one guy dining alone caught my eye. He was ordering fancy stuff but not really appreciating it. Like a $15 glass of wine (which is expensive for us) which he just drained like it was water. Didn't seem to even appreciate it. In fact, I'm not sure he appreciated anything because he just kept nervously scanning the restaurant. He finished and I asked him about dessert. He asked to see the examples of everything, which is a pain in the butt because I have to go back and load up a whole tray just to have someone just decide they want their dinner mint and their check. Still, if the customer asks, you have to do it. Just as I turned and started walking away, he popped up from the table and started striding toward the door. I'm not sure what possessed me but I ignored the tray and whipped around to sprint after him. I didn't even make the decision consciously, my body just decided to move. My path around the tables was longer than his but I was really booking it and managed to get myself in the doorway just before he could walk out.

"I'm sorry. We're out of desserts. Did you want to go ahead and settle up your check?" I asked, pointedly making sure he couldn't push past me.

"Nope." He said and rushed me. That's when he hit the ground. Hard. So hard he actually bounced. Matt heard the commotion and quickly joined us up front. He helped the guy up and then looked questioningly at me.

"He tripped trying to pull out his wallet to pay. I was just going to help him up so he could try it again." I said. Then I looked at my escape attemptee. "I'm sure it will go better this time." The guy's previously nervous expression hardened into anger as his shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled out a wad of bills. He was about to start flipping through them when Matt grabbed the whole handful.

"That should about cover dinner." Matt said. I noticed he was still holding onto the jerk's arm. "But you forgot a tip for the pretty lady who made sure you were ok." He said in a very controlled tone. I noticed that this was the angriest I'd ever seen him, much worse than my first week when I dropped an entire tray of water glasses.

The guy grumbled and went back through his pockets. The only bill he found was a hundred. I'm not sure where he found the gall but he then asked Matt if he could break the hundred for him.

"Nope." Matt said, taking the bill, and tossing the guy out the door. "And don't bother coming back." He shouted after the guy as he crawled away. Then Matt turned back to look at me. His expression changed from anger to something resembling pride. He handed me the entire wad of bills including the hundred. "His meal is on me. All of this is for you. I was wondering when you were going to stand up for yourself. You came in here with your pride stomped into the floor. You just took everything I threw at you. You didn't even get pissed at cleaning those shelves last night."

"But I work for you and that's what you said to do." I tried to explain. "What was I supposed to do?"

"That job was degrading. I wanted you to tell me to shove it." He said, smiling but serious. "I've been trying to push you out of your funk ever since you got here and not even that did it. But I'm glad that today did and that asshole's meal is more than worth seeing it."

I looked at him steadily. "You're a weird boss." I told him, trying not to crack into a smile.

"Nah, we just live in a weird city. I see a lot of people come through here. Most of them are broken. You, you're just bent. There's still hope for you. So I've been trying to push you back into alignment. All it will take is a little bit of effort to get back to whatever you were doing before. You're better than this place but I'm happy to have you while I can. Go ahead, take the rest of the night off and celebrate a bit. I'll cover it and get Frankie to handle your section for the rest of the night."

I went in back, got changed and cleaned up. Then I took a minute to count the money I'd gotten. Knowing it had come from that jerk's pocket I almost didn't want to touch it but that changed when I finished counting it. It was $436 for 'dinner' and plus that $100 for my tip that Matt forced out of him. It was just amazing although I did wonder why anyone who would eat at our dingy restaurant would carry around that much in cash. Grinning, I walked out of the restaurant and then down the alley toward some clothing shops. This girl needed a new outfit.

I'd just turned the corner when something long and hard (please, no sex jokes) hit me in the stomach. I heard the jerk's voice as I folded up in pain. "I'll take my change now, you stupid little cunt!"

Then a lot of things happened all at once. I combined a flip with a spin with my body still wrapped around what I now saw was a piece of water pipe. All the twisting served to rip it out of the asshole's hands (and now I'm swearing but I promise it's appropriate) and it clattered onto the street with an oddly familiar clatter. Maybe I'd once worked around a bunch of guys laying pipe?

Shut up. The dirty minds you all have…

Anyway, the asshole was disarmed so any sane person would have taken this opportunity to run away. My brain screamed to do that but my muscles had other ideas. I jumped into another flip and this time my foot flipped across his face. I'm not sure if I heard or just felt his nose break; either way, the feeling was nauseating. He yelled and took a step toward me, stepping over the pipe lying on the ground. Seeing the opportunity, I crouched down and, reaching between his feet, grabbed onto the pipe. Then I jerked it toward myself as hard as I could, pulling the pipe right into both of his Achilles tendons. You know – the cordy things on the back of your ankles. He screamed and fell backward, completely out of control. His head bounced as his body hit the pavement and some part of me knew this would knock him unconscious. But my body was still in control and so I stood up, spinning the pipe in my hands like some sort of ninja. Then I swung it down toward his head with every expectation it would crack his skull.

Just like in the restaurant, I wasn't sure why I was reacting so violently. It was as if I was a passenger in my mind riding a crazy rollercoaster. And I desperately wanted off the ride so I could go puke in the trash barrel. But I was on the top of that very last drop and roaring down along with the end of my pipe toward disaster.

"Mindy!" I heard my name screamed and I flinched. The pipe hit the ground next to the bastard's head bounced away. My hands had already released it. Matt had obviously come running when he heard the fight and luckily kept me from killing this guy. I smiled tremulously and, unable to come up anything else to say, paraphrased what the guy had yelled at me right before this all started. "He said he wanted his change. So I gave it to him…." I tried to smile again and failed. Then realization of everything that had happened in those handful of seconds hit me and I started to cry. That was bad. Then I added vomiting to the sobbing. If you've never cried and thrown up at the same time… Let's just say that I don't recommend it.

By the time I'd completely recovered, the cops had come, taken my soggy statement, non-too gently tossed the asshole in an ambulance, and gone back to whatever cops do when they're waiting for crimes to be reported. Once I'd finished losing everything in my stomach, Matt had let me cry into his shoulder. He was big and soft and old, kind of like a father figure. Once the police had gone, he asked me if I was going to be okay and when I nodded, called a cab to take me home. "It'll all feel better tomorrow." He'd said.

On the way home, I looked at the money in my pocket. I couldn't really take any joy in it at this point. So I had the cab driver stop near a homeless girl who looked really down on her luck. I didn't say a word as I handed her all the money. Then I got back in the cab and told the driver to leave before she'd realized how much it was. I think I heard some sort of happy woot as we rounded a corner and she disappeared from view. At least the night wasn't a total loss, I mused. Once I got home, I dragged myself up the steps and went directly into the bathroom. I desperately needed to be clean. Once I was done, I pulled on some pajamas and took my laptop into my bed. Netflix automatically logged in with the account I had remembered earlier. As I did the standard Netflix search for something to watch, the violent movie suggestions unnerved me. Who was this person? For that matter, who was I? How had I done those things, those kicks and spins. And why had part of me been looking forward to seeing that bastard's skull crack? Unable to look into myself, I focused on whoever's account this was. Maybe he would have some of these answers. After an hour of pondering, I added a second profile to the account that they would see the next time they logged in. I was going to use the profile name to communicate. Ultimately, I had to add four profiles before I could get my message to fit. I focused on a basic question because I wasn't ready for big things yet. So what I wrote was "How do you watch these things?"


	4. Chapter 4

Just a quick note.

This story will no longer be updated or completed. My muse has left me.

I'm sorry.


End file.
